


can you feel my heartbeat

by lady_ragnell



Series: history makers [2]
Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Teammates to Lovers, character injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: Fancy doesn't mean to get involved in D'avin Jaqobis's life--they're just supposed to be on the same team, after all. After D'avin gets injured and has to retire, though, there's no reason for them to stay in touch.





	can you feel my heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe/gifts).



> With thanks to **Scribe** for donating for my latest round of fic-for-donations and for letting me indulge myself by writing the D'avin/Fancy part of this series!
> 
> **Warnings:** This fic dances on the T/M line, and I went with T, but do be aware that it's not fade to black, just not detailed at all. D'avin is injured with enough damage to force him to retire, but his injuries are not graphically described, nor are any of the medical procedures that follow.

Fancy meets D'avin Jaqobis for the first time when he's fresh off a trade. He knew about him before—they were up for draft in the same year, but D'avin got swallowed by a big-name team that kept him on the farm instead of on a smaller one that would play him in league games, so they don't meet on the ice until D'avin is traded to the RAC Killjoys in Fancy's third season of playing for them.

Jaqobis is the big kind of defenseman Fancy rolls his eyes over, all size and no skill, but they're called out for the same shift at D'avin's first practice, running some drills. And sure, Jaqobis has no subtlety, but he's fast, and more than that, he's not completely stupid. Fancy, as a believer in honesty, tells him that as they're skating off the ice.

“Thanks, I think,” says Jaqobis, sounding bemused. “You're really making me feel welcome to the team, you know? Warm and fuzzy feelings, real team spirit.”

“I'm not here for team spirit. I'm here to make sure we win a few championships before I retire. Having defensemen who aren't stupid helps with that. Keep it up.”

“Seriously, are we going to have a sleepover and braid each other's hair? I bet yours does a kickass braid, we should try it sometime.”

The coach calls D'avin over before Fancy can find a suitably scornful reply for that, and it sets a pattern that amuses the press and, on nastier days, makes their team and coaching staff roll their eyes.

*

They fuck for the first time when they get knocked out of playoffs by fucking _Westerley_. It's D'avin's home team, the place he grew up, but that just makes him even more determined to beat them, and when they lose 4-0 in their last game he's obviously pissed off, almost throwing his stick across the locker room.

D'avin is one of the faces of the team already, after only one season, always ready with a quip for the press and a smile for the fans, and he made it through the usual line of questions and autographs, but Fancy, one of the last in the locker room, sees him drop the public persona and shares the frustration, if not the drama about it.

“Cool it,” he says, since nobody else seems too interested in his little temper tantrum. “So we lost this season. We've got plenty left before retirement.”

“I know that.” D'avin picks his stick up, checks for damage automatically. “Fuck. I know that, I've lost plenty. I just really wanted to prove that I'm worth keeping in the league.”

Fancy raises his eyebrows. “Management isn't going to get rid of you, more's the pity. Apparently you're appealing to the common man, or something.”

“It's my charming, roguish smile that gets all the housewives fluttering, is it? Or maybe my raw animal magnetism?”

“You don't have raw animal magnetism.”

D'avin laughs, shaking off the mood. “Come on, I'll take you out for a commiserating drink, we'll see how you feel about it then.”

Later, pressed up against the inside of his own front door, Fancy bites his lip while D'avin kneels in front of him, holds on to his control, holds on to D'avin's hair, grown out a little for playoffs. “No magnetism at all that I can see,” he says when it's over. “I'm just going to have to be a gentleman and have pity and get you off despite the lack of it.”

D'avin laughs at him, drags him down to the hallway floor, unzips his fly, leans in to say “You can deny it all you like, but I just blew your mind.”

“You're mixing that up with my dick, I think.”

D'avin leers as he pushes his underwear down. Distressingly, that seems to be working for Fancy, because he finds himself leaning in to take over. “I'm really not,” D'avin says, and kisses Fancy.

*

They don't talk about it. But sometimes, they lose or win a big game, or Fancy scores a hat trick, and it happens again.

*

In the third game of D'avin's fourth season with the Killjoys, they're playing the Arkyn Hullen for a matinee and Fancy has dropped gloves three times because they're a bunch of dicks who can't stop checking illegally. It's the third, they're tied, and D'avin's just been sent out on a fresh shift to do what he does best and keep the other team the fuck away from the puck.

Fancy's on the bench when it happens, so it's not like he could do anything. One of the Hullen wingers breaks away on a play, and D'avin matches him, sees where he's going, but doesn't see the trip coming, and the way his stick gets caught and twists his arm around before he thinks to drop it.

The noise of his helmet bouncing on the ice shouldn't be audible over the screams of the crowd, but Fancy feels like it should be. He watches as the game is called to a halt, as a medic talks to D'avin and then calls for him to be helped off the ice. D'avin is cursing audibly, hand hovering over his shoulder like he wants to clutch it, blood showing from somewhere.

Fancy finishes the game, and they win in a brutal overtime, but the second he's off the ice and out of his skates, he ignores the hint that he should head for the press line and goes to the medical suite instead. Sure enough, D'avin is in the first room, arguing with a nurse. “Jaqobis, never argue with people who can stab you with needles, this is basic self-preservation.”

“Mr. Lee,” says the nurse with more than a little relief, “please tell him that we are obligated to call his emergency contact when he needs to be hospitalized.”

Fancy gives D'avin a sharp look. He does look rough, a cut on his face where his helmet must have scraped him and his shoulder immobilized. That's what's worrying, especially when D'avin wrenched the same shoulder in preseason. “Hospitalized? Look, I have no idea what your family situation is,” and isn't that weird, when D'avin never seems to shut up about his favorite foods and what he thinks of the latest episode of Real Housewives of Qresh, “but just call them before they hear about it on the news.”

D'avin grits his teeth when the nurse does something involving his shoulder. “Johnny is in a competition right now. He and his partner are in fifth after the short program and due to go on any minute now, I am not going to throw him off his game.”

Fancy stares at him. “Your brother is … a figure skater?”

“It's Junior Regionals tonight. I am not going to interrupt him.”

“No, seriously. Toe picks and sequins and shit?”

“Mr. Lee,” says the nurse in tones of despair.

“Does he earnestly skate in circles to the sounds of music nobody's listened to in two hundred years?”

“He could jump and give you a skate directly to the nuts, Fancy, do not mess with Johnny until you can do a double axel.” D'avin winces. They really aren't giving him enough painkillers, if he's still feeling his injury that badly. Or it's bad, worse than a wrench or even a dislocation. “Don't let them call him, okay? I am competent to make medical decisions, they can call him in the morning.”

“You're never competent to make decisions.” Fancy gives the nurse his most charming smile. “I'll stick with Jaqobis, okay? It can't hurt to wait a couple hours to call his brother. If he's off at some competition he might not have his phone on anyway.”

Fancy rides to the hospital with D'avin, mocks him for getting hurt whenever he's awake after he starts drifting out, and waits for the first doctor to say “permanent damage” before he steals D'avin's phone and goes out to the hallway.

It takes him a full five minutes to remember the name “Johnny” and no time at all to figure out D'avin's phone password, which he'll definitely tease him about later.

Johnny Jaqobis sounds wary when he picks up. “You can't possibly have already heard that we bombed the free skate.”

“Sucks to be you, little Jaqobis,” says Fancy, because he can't help himself. “And I'm about to pile on some bad news for you, since you probably haven't checked hockey news today. Your brother's in the hospital. Conscious, all that shit, but they're not sure he can keep playing.”

“Oh.” Fancy doesn't really care about anyone's personal life, and he doesn't care about whatever weirdness is happening in D'avin's brother's voice right now. “That's … I'm a ways away. Don't know when I can get there. Do they need signatures? Or something?”

“No. Just figured I'd keep you updated about your family.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“And sorry about the whole free skate thing, which I figure is bad,” says Fancy, because baby Jaqobis sounds pretty shaken up and also confused and he does know how to show _some_ human sympathy. “I'll have him call you later.”

“Thanks, you're—I'll bet you're Fancy, right? Thanks, Fancy. I've got to go talk to my coach, but tell D'av I'll call later.”

And then Fancy's hearing the silence of an ended call, before he even thinks to wonder why the brother D'avin obviously never talks to is his emergency contact and why the hells he'd know who Fancy is. But being curious about D'avin is a bad idea, so Fancy puts the phone down and goes back into the room. D'avin looks drawn out and done for, and the GM sitting with him looks pitying, which is all Fancy needs to know. “Your brother says he'll call later,” as smoothly as he can, and hands the phone to the GM before he leaves the room.

*

At the end of the season, after another playoffs knockout, months after D'avin disappears to the ass-end of Westerley and they barely text, let alone do anything else, Fancy gets traded to the Hullen, and all things considered, he figures that's the last he's going to hear from D'avin Jaqobis.

*

Arkyn has a famous figure skating rink, a stable of successful skaters, which Fancy only really knows because of the local articles about some training accident with some pairs skaters midway through his first season with the Hullen. There's something on one of the articles about some regional competition, and on a whim, Fancy looks up Johnny Jaqobis.

Two weeks later, he's sitting in uncomfortable bleachers, avoiding any journalists so he doesn't have to give any quotes about supporting his fellow athletes, because he's here out of sheer curiosity. It's free skate day for the pairs, when they'll find out who wins, and baby Jaqobis and his partner are solidly in the middle of the pack, though announcers keep sadly saying that it's anyone's game with Yardeen and what's-his-name out.

Fancy looks around the crowd, but there's no sign of D'avin, not that Fancy was expecting him to be there. If he was going to be in Arkyn there probably would have at least been a courtesy text, because D'avin is stupidly polite for a hockey player.

When Jaqobis gets called out, Fancy leans forward. There aren't many sequins, which is a little disappointing, but whatever he's wearing, it's tight. He doesn't look much like D'avin at first glance, but there's some familiarity in the way he smiles at his partner and crowd in response to the polite clapping.

He's good, though, Fancy thinks. Not gold-medal good, but good. Better than his partner, probably, who looks nervous the whole time and almost flubs a jump, so close to falling that the woman sitting behind Fancy hisses in a sympathetic breath. Fancy whistles above the still-polite clapping when they stop, but he doesn't go say hello after it's over.

Instead, he wanders outside and texts D'avin. _Why don't you attend your brother's tight-pants competitions when I'm in the city?_

D'avin texts back an hour later, when Fancy has already made it home. _Because rink owners of rinks being brought back from almost failing don't get to leave home that often, and because he doesn't ask me to come to his shit. Why are you asking?_

Fancy calls him. “You own a rink now? Jaqobis, come on. You could at least coach somewhere. College, even.”

“I don't want to. This is the rink Johnny and I learned to skate in, and it was going to shut down, so I'm fixing it. Johnny and his partner and their coach are coming to train here pretty soon, once the facility is a little more fixed up.”

“Not planning to host a hockey team someday?”

“It's no stadium. And no, I'm done with hockey for now. Why the hells are you at my brother's competition?”

“I'm not,” Fancy says with perfect honesty, putting his feet up on his coffee table. His apartment isn't huge, but it's plenty for one, and he's sure as fuck not staying in Arkyn a second after he's traded again or retires. It's full of assholes, which makes him seem way nicer than he is. Nice isn't a good look on Fancy. “He's not gold-medal material, Jaqobis. This whole buying-a-rink gesture is weird.”

“I think you're wrong. But either way, he loves it, so he's going to get to do it.” D'avin clears his throat. “You should come up sometime on a break, visit with us. I'm here most times, except when I have to do some charity shit.”

D'avin was always good at being a public face for an organization, because even Fancy can admit that it's a pretty good face to have. Of course he's still doing it after retirement. “Come up to your podunk town to see your podunk rink? You wish.”

“Come on, Fancy, you know you miss me.”

Fancy would never in his life admit it if D'avin were right about that. He's not right, of course, but even if he were, Fancy wouldn't admit it. “I have actual defensemen now,” he says. “I'm only calling you out of pity.”

For a second, he thinks that might be a little bit too much asshole, and then D'avin laughs. “Sure, Fancy. I'll see you soon.”

*

Fancy flies up to Westerley the next time he has a few days off in between games and events, which happens to be right about the time baby Jaqobis's partner quits on him. When Fancy shows up next to the ice, he's having a low-voiced conversation with the woman who's got to be his coach, and he looks up sharply when he notices he's being watched. “Fancy, right?”

This kid always seems to know him, though recognizing his face is a lot more reasonable than just guessing it's him on the phone. “That's me. Training up for a solo career?”

The coach looks like she's going to cut in, but baby Jaqobis prevents that with a shrug of his shoulders like it doesn't bother him. “Solo careers for male figure skaters tend to involve way more quads than I can manage. I'm more of a supporting act. You here to see D'av?”

“And mock his retirement plan, yes.”

“Well, anyone who's here to mock D'av is welcome, he's been weird ever since some charity event he went to last week.” Jaqobis waves a hand to a door on one end of the rink. “Head that way, turn right, he's a couple doors down, you can tell because the shitty decades-old music is coming from there.”

“Sure, figure skaters can throw stones about old music,” says Fancy, and wanders off in that direction.

Sure enough, some of D'avin's shitty tunes are playing out of an open door once he heads in the right direction, and Fancy doesn't bother knocking on the door, just walks in. “Your brother said I was good to come in and mock you, and I'm definitely going to do it,” he says. “You're sitting in here listening to the worst music in the world and doing paperwork? Get a boyfriend, Jaqobis.”

“You'd be disappointed if I did, admit it,” says D'avin, face creasing up in a grin while he stands up. He's moving a lot easier now than he was the last time Fancy saw him, but he's wearing a button-up when Fancy knows he hates them, and it's probably just as much because of shoulder mobility as it is because of being a rink owner who needs to look professional. “You didn't tell me you were coming by.”

“We're playing nearby pretty soon, figured I could scope out that stadium and your rink at the same time.”

“Sit down,” says D'avin, waving Fancy at what looks like the worst-designed and most uncomfortable chair he's ever had the displeasure of seeing. “How are the Hullen treating their new star forward?”

“Shitty. I'm third line at best, haven't had ice time at all in a few games. They're assholes.”

D'avin makes a gesture at his shoulder. “Don't I know it? Tell me anyway.”

Fancy does, even though the chair is just as ergonomically poorly designed as he could have feared, and makes a point of stretching when he's done. “Come on, cut out an hour early, give me food and let me sit in a better chair. Can't you get something comfortable to sit in before I come again?”

D'avin raises his eyebrows, but he's already standing up and easing into his coat. “You're going to come again?”

Fancy doesn't like being coy even if he also doesn't like letting someone else have even the illusion of the upper hand. “Depends on how good in bed you are tonight,” he says, a compromise, and D'avin laughs.

*

The next time Fancy visits, there's an old armchair in D'avin's office that Fancy could happily live in, and they don't mention it, but Fancy makes sure his blowjob is spectacular, especially since he declines to get out of the chair while he's giving it.

*

“So, my brother is going to start competing again,” says D'avin over the phone the next time Fancy calls to tell him he has a few days free to visit Westerley. “He's got a new partner.”

“What, did one just show up? I thought pairs skaters without a pair were pretty thin on the ground.”

“Yeah, but I invited Yalena Yardeen to practice at my rink and apparently they're soulmates or something.”

Even Fancy knows who Yala Yardeen is, the disgraced daughter of Arkyn, whose partner got injured and who disappeared, retired from the circuit. “How the fuck do you know her?”

“We met at a charity thing. She seemed lonely. So did Johnny.” Fancy can hear the shrug in D'avin's voice, like it's that easy, seeing two people who are lonely and deciding that he can fix it. “I hope it works.”

“Matchmaking? I guess it's a traditional retirement occupation.”

“Does that mean you're going to take it up in a few years?”

“Don't be stupid, Jaqobis, I'm never going to retire. I'm going to be the first sixty-year-old in the league.”

D'avin laughs. “I'll see you next week, right? I checked out the schedule, you have three days at some point and you can't have practice on all of them.”

“Are you checking because the criminal franchise fronting you the money for your doomed-to-fail rink is visiting too and you don't want my pretty face hurt?”

“Who needs criminal franchises? I've got Dutch and all her sponsorships, now that she's going back into competition.”

“Dutch?”

“Apparently hockey players aren't the only ones with nicknames. Who knew? Anyway, question on the table: you, here, next week—right?”

Fancy sighs. He hates being predictable, but he also hates Arkyn, and if spending his days off in Westerley is getting him all kinds of frequent flyer miles, at least it's also something to do. “I guess, if you miss me that much.”

D'avin was a lot easier to handle when he got pissed off at everything Fancy said instead of laughing at him.

*

Fancy usually ignores baby Jaqobis on his visits, as well as most of the other people in the rink, but on his next visit he happens to arrive when he's working on something fancy with Yalena Yardeen. There's something there he recognizes from good hockey, when a line's got just the right chemistry to get a win, and he stops to watch for a few minutes before he wanders over to see D'avin. They don't even seem to see him.

“When do they start competing?” he asks when he sits down, stretching out in the chair, which makes a horrible squeaking noise when he puts the feet up.

D'avin smiles at him, but it's a little tight. “Soon. But I really don't want to talk about my brother right now.”

Fancy can't object to that.

*

Fancy goes to more of baby Jaqobis's competitions than D'avin does. D'avin's number is zero, so the two Fancy makes it to isn't really saying much when some people from the rink go to almost every one. Baby Jaqobis and Yardeen are good, getting talked about even when they fuck up, and Fancy mentions it a few visits later.

D'avin raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, I know how to use the internet. You should see my browsing history, I look like one of those obsessed fans we used to get, the ones who knew our stats better than we did. I know all the possible deductions for like half of their moves by heart.”

“And you don't go see them?”

That shuts D'avin up, when Fancy doesn't want him shutting up for once. “Things with Johnny and me have always been weird,” he finally says. “This is good for him. He doesn't want his stupid brother showing up and stealing the limelight.”

Fancy sniffs. “Please, you weren't that famous.”

It's not exactly comforting, but D'avin seems less awkward after that. Fancy refuses to count it as a win, mostly because he has no idea what game he's playing.

*

Figure skating Nationals happen to fall during Fancy's winter break, a whole week with no games and no practice for the family men to remind their spouses what they look like and for Fancy to get the hells out of Arkyn, even if he ends up at another rink and it isn't even D'avin's. D'avin called him up to invite him, said something about a talk with Dutch, and that's all the reason he gives for finally showing up.

Fancy still comes, which probably says a lot about him, but the Hullen don't care about him enough to tease him about it and nobody at the rink is mentioning it, which probably has more to do with D'avin than it does with him.

He sits next to D'avin in the stands for both days of competition for the pairs skaters and refuses to hold D'avin's stupid glittery sign the whole time. Both of them answer some questions from press who recognize them, say they're there supporting D'avin's brother, but mostly Fancy sits in the audience, watches Johnny lift Dutch up and spin her around in the waiting area when they find out that they win bronze, that they're qualifying for Worlds. D'avin is standing and cheering, one arm around Fancy's shoulders and the other waving his ridiculous sign, loud as if they'd won gold.

“Okay, fine, maybe I should have showed up before,” D'avin says when they're fighting the crowds to get through to the new medalists. “I'm clearly some kind of good luck charm.”

Johnny tackles D'avin the second he sees them, leaving Fancy to stand awkwardly to the side with Dutch, who raises her eyebrows at him. “Thanks for keeping him company.”

“You're the one who got him here.” He still doesn't know what shit went down with D'avin and Johnny years ago, may not ever figure it out, but he can admit it feels good, seeing the two of them hugging, D'avin yelling about triple axels like he used to yell about power plays. “Congrats, by the way. Good luck bombing Worlds.”

“As long as I'm bombing it with him, I'm happy. Do you ever miss losing the playoffs with D'avin?”

The Hullen are probably going to make it to the championship this year, maybe even win it, and Fancy will have the win under his belt that he's always said he wanted, but he's going to have it with a team he hates and hates playing for. He already knows that if they try to keep him at the end of his two-year contract he's retiring. “Don't project, Yardeen, sentimentality is a bad look on you.”

“Everything is a good look on me,” she calls after him, but he's already stepping away to make fun of D'avin for being the noisiest fan in the whole place.

*

There are still three days left on his break when the championships are over, and Fancy goes back to Old Town without consulting with D'avin or anyone else. He's been looking up short-term rentals in the area for the off-season, but he's definitely not mentioning that to D'avin yet.

Instead, he drags D'avin to bed instead of waiting for him to check in at the rink like he insists he should. He left it in the hands of Zeph, the college kid who runs the zamboni and rents out rental skates and glares every time she sees Fancy, so he's probably right to be worried about it, but they get in at eight at night, so the rink is shut down either way, and it can wait for morning.

D'avin holds Fancy down with his good arm, less like he's trying to be kinky and more like he's trying to keep him there, like he's worried Fancy is going somewhere.

For the first time, Fancy realizes that maybe he's not planning to go anywhere at all.

*

Fancy wakes up early in the morning, and D'avin is gone, so he goes to the rink. He's expecting to go right to the office to find D'avin frowning at paperwork, but instead, as he passes the rink itself, he hears the unmistakable sound of a blade cutting through ice. Dutch and Johnny are still at Nationals, waiting a day or two for the other competitions and the gala to finish up, and no one else should be there before opening, so Fancy looks in.

D'avin is skating slow circles on the ice, no pucks or stick set up, just him and the ice and a pair of old hockey skates he can't have replaced since that last game in the QHL even though they were getting old then. “You gonna join me?” he calls after a while, pulling to a stop at center ice.

“You got sloppy, Jaqobis,” Fancy calls back, but he's already going into his bag for his skates, since he tends to run drills when baby Jaqobis isn't hogging the ice with his dreams of glory.

D'avin goes back to skating around while Fancy laces up, doesn't bother to respond. They both know it's true, and if they talked about it too long, it would stop being teasing. Instead, Fancy hurries through putting on his skates and slides out on the ice.

Usually, when he's on the ice he has a stick in his hands and a purpose. When he goes out this time, though, it's just to skate around, get a feel for the rink, and watch D'avin fall into rhythm until they're skating a long, slow circle together, and then another, and another.

After a few times around, D'avin extends his hand. Fancy takes it.

It's not the lead-in for a big move like Johnny and Dutch would be doing, not going to get them any medals. Fancy is a professional hockey player who should be using his ice time to shoot pucks, not skate around in endless circles holding hands.

“Wow, it's almost like you don't mind the fancy kind of skating,” D'avin says eventually, because that's what they do, ruin things before they get too sentimental. “You want to put on some decades-old music, try a few lifts?”

“Shut up, Jaqobis,” Fancy says, mostly by rote, but squeezes his hand and keeps skating.


End file.
